


Bodies in the Road

by Defira



Series: Wild Mage [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 03:36:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2717411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the urging of her adoptive parents, Corinne Trevelyan has committed herself to attending the conclave in Haven calling for peace between the rebel mages and the mutinous templars. Already uncomfortable with the thought that, as a mage raised outside the Circles, she will have no stake in such talks, her journey becomes further muddied by the revelation that her Rivaini family have plans far beyond the reach of the conclave. </p><p>It is a long walk to Haven, and the war has already begun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The seaspray as the boat pushed through the waves towards the harbour was bracing, but invigorating, and Corinne clung to the railing and leaned as far out over the edge as she dared, closing her eyes and grinning broadly with each lurch of her stomach when the ship dropped sharply. Her clothes had been damp for the full two days across the sea, and it was marvellous. 

The chill in the air as they raced towards the harbour before the sun managed to slink below the horizon made her wet clothes almost painful, and the spray stung her face with each gust of the wind, but _spirits_ , she had not felt so alive in a long time. She missed the feel of cool soil between her toes, the solidity of the earth beneath her, but spirits take her if she didn’t love the roiling wildness of the water. Her blood seethed in time to the peaks and lulls of the waves, a magnificent song within her- nothing at all like the relatively mild trips she had made across Rialto Bay frequently in the last ten years. 

Still, it would be nice to plant her feet again, and have a chance to rinse the salt from her hair. 

As the piers came into view around the headland, Corinne moved to take a seat out of the way of the sailors, settling down on a cargo crate and watching as the great city of Amaranthine drew closer. 

She’d heard all the tales, of course- of the great jewel of Ferelden’s north standing alone against a darkspawn siege, only to be saved at the eleventh hour by the great Elissa Cousland. She suspected the stories to be just that, extravagant tales told over too many pints that had only grown more elaborate with each new telling. The lady herself had been unsurprisingly terse on the subject of her time during the Blight- not that Corinne had really spoken to her in person extensively. Truthfully, it’d been hard enough reconciling the idea that the quiet, sharp edged, scarred woman she’d met in her grandmother’s company last year had been the much lauded Hero of the Fifth Blight at all. 

Undoubtedly she’d be barraged with stories and songs about her for the next few weeks of her travels anyway, and if the idea of it was unpalatable enough to her she couldn’t imagine how tiresome it had to be for the woman herself. 

As they drew closer to the port, some of the other passengers shuffled up on deck, looking remarkably pale and clammy in the fading light; Corinne tried not to grin at their misfortune, but the idea that anyone could be ill instead of exhilarated by the pitching rhythm of the ship was almost funny to her. Her grandmother had amusingly declared her to have saltwater in her veins on her first trip to Rivain, and maybe it was her blood running true to her birth family and maybe it was her connection to the magic in the natural world, but she couldn’t disagree.

She was as at home on the rolling deck of a ship as she was standing on the highest branch in the canopy of the forest, neither of which endeared her to the other passengers when they caught sight of her smile.

Corinne laughed to herself at the filthy looks they threw in her direction, and settled back comfortably on the crate for the last leg of the journey. 

The sailors scampered through the rigging as they fought against the waves to steer the ship into port; the helmsman’s arms strained against the wheel as they plowed through the cold spray, and then they were past the breakwater and into the calmer waters of the harbour. Above them on the hill, Amaranthine’s central keep stood like a crown against the landscape, the city wending down along the cliffs in a jumble of streets and warehouses and shacks the closer they drew to the waterfront. The sounds of civilization drifted across the water towards them, the distant tolling of a chantry bell and the screeches of the gulls vying for pickings from the fishermen unloading their daily catch along the piers. 

Corinne stood as they pulled up alongside the ancient stone wharf, bracing herself for the bump as the men along the dock stood ready to catch the ropes thrown by the sailors. There was the expected lurching jolt as the momentum pushed them hard against the warded barriers, and some of the other passengers cried out in alarm, staggering violently. Corinne couldn’t help herself- she laughed again, covering her mouth a moment later when they cast more dirty looks over their shoulders at her. 

Hefting her sodden satchel onto her shoulder, Corinne barely waited for the ship to come to a standstill; she’d paid her fare up front in Ostwick, and she had no reason to tarry. And as much as she’d enjoyed her time at sea, the lure of solid ground beneath her was too great to resist. Slipping through the shouting sailors as they brought the ship under control and tied it firmly to the wharf, she leapt over the railing with ease, taking a moment to let her balance return as she stopped to breathe in the rapidly cooling night air.

“Is this half drowned waif I see really my own dear cousin, or-”

“Or are you losing your sight in your old age?” Corinne finished, grinning so broadly she felt her face would crack as she saw the figure loping towards her out of the murk. With the lights of the city behind her, her dark face was in shadow, but Corinne could mistake her for no other. The graceful stride of her long legs, the glitter of gold beads threaded through her locs... “Riana, macan.”

“It’s been too long, Rin,” Riana said, smiling joyfully as she threw her arms around her. Riana had a good few inches on her, and Corinne felt an immense sense of relief and happiness flood through her as she wrapped herself around her, burying her face against the side of her neck and relaxing as the warmth of her cousin seeped into her. 

She chuckled under her breath. “I missed you,” she said, listening to the faint thud of Riana’s pulse beside her cheek. “More than I can say.”

“Well, if you didn’t go hide in the fucking woods for over a year-” 

Corinne laughed as she pulled away. “I wasn’t _hiding_ ,” she tried to interject.

“Oh, I’m sorry, skulking? Lurking beneath the darkest bowers like a wildling?”

Corinne hefted her satchel back up onto her shoulder, and Riana reached forward and took it from her. “I couldn’t really justify travelling alone after the rebellion began, and Dairsmuid, and you know it,” she said, falling into step beside her. They moved with a synergy that caused more than a few of the people they passed to glance at them in surprise; they moved as one, Riana’s longer strides slowing to compensate for Corinne’s shorter stature and weariness after the voyage, and after even just a few short minutes their little gestures and mannerisms had begun to match again. “And even if I’d wanted to, I doubt that Nadifa and Benan would have been happy with it.”

Riana sighed, her mouth twisting unhappily. “I know,” she said quietly, leading Corinne through the still crowded streets on a slow trek up towards the city proper. “It doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you.”

There was a grief in her voice that Corinne knew only too well- the bond between them ran deep, even before Riana had taken up the honour of acting as Corinne’s guardian, her ilaalin. The years of training and studying and fighting together during her time exiled in Rivain had wound them so closely together that sometimes it was hard to tell whether or not the thoughts in her head were of her own making or whether her empathic connection with her cousin had her sensing her strongest thoughts and emotions. 

She had heard that for those who had been paired for longer, those mages and ilaalin who had stood together for the better part of their lives, they _could_ communicate without words, and that is wasn’t unusual for the mood of one to influence the mood of the other, regardless of the distance between them. For herself and Riana, it had only been eight or nine years, and the last year away from her had hurt her more than she cared to admit. 

“Clearly you were pining hopelessly if you were sitting down on the docks waiting for me,” she said, grinning roguishly at her while Riana rolled her eyes. “Just how many days did you waste staring out to sea and sighing forlornly?” 

“The message only came by carrier bird this morning,” Riana said, guiding her away from the main thoroughfare and down a set of stairs towards a street that was less crowded. “Benan must have sent word after you departed.”

“He joked that he was going to leave it up to me to find you- drop me in a foreign country and spin me in a circle three times and send me on my way.”

Riana barked out a laugh. “That’s just like him too,” she said, and the sadness in her voice had retreated. 

Corinne smiled, relieved to have cheered her so easily. “So this is Ferelden, eh?” she said as she slung her arm around Riana’s shoulders. “Spirits, I can already smell the wet dog.”

“Don’t even joke- it’s _terrible_. I swear the inn we’re staying in washes the linen in the same tubs that they wash their dogs.”

The market still seemed to be busy as they crossed the square, despite the late hour, and Corinne had to admit she was impressed with the bustle and the diversity- she’d expected far worse from Ferelden, given all the jokes. But she saw a variety of races and faces amongst the crowd, and more than once turned her head in surprise when she caught the faint scent of familiar incense. There were dwarves hawking lyrium etched weapons, trying to catch their attention as they passed, and elves offering to polish their shoes or carry their bags every time they tarried too long in the crowds. Riana slapped away curious hands more than once, clearly more accustomed to the city than she was.

“How long have you been here?” Corinne asked her cousin, smiling through gritted teeth as she shook her head at a rather insistent merchant trying to press beeswax candles into her hands. 

“Nearly a week now,” Riana said, taking her by the elbow and steering her clear of the merchant with a scowl in his direction. “We made good time through the Bay- grandmother had Aunt Xanaan fly Armada colours, and we didn’t have any trouble. 

Corinne looked at her in surprise. “Is Ishaaro here?”

Riana laughed heartily. “I don’t think you could pry grandmother away from Dairsmuid even under threat of an archdemon,” she said, taking yet another set of stairs in the twisting labyrinth that made up the upper city. “She saw us off, and was rather stern about stressing to Xan that she get us here safely.”

“Who’s we?”

“Mother is leading our party on grandmother’s behalf,” she said. “The Council of Seers didn’t send anyone in an official capacity to represent them, but several have sent family as their voice.” Riana made a dissatisfied noise. “There was quite loud dissent about whether to send anyone at all.” 

Corinne could see a grand Chantry up on the hill, the doors open and the windows all ablaze from the candles inside, and the bells calling the faithful to worship were much louder now. “Dissent?” she asked, feeling the faint hints of anger bleeding through from her cousin. 

“After the Dairsmuid tower was annulled by the Seekers and templar reinforcements from Antiva, there have been very strong calls for us to distance ourselves from the Andrastian way,” Riana said, bitterness in her tone. “We already lose too many to the Qun, must we lose more upholding a farcical commitment to a religion that denies us our own ways, our own faith? That calls for us to turn on family and be thankful for their deaths?”

Corinne was quiet for a moment before she reached forward and took Riana’s hand in hers, pulling her to a stop. “I am sorry I did not come back,” she said quietly, squeezing Riana’s hand in hers. 

Riana laughed bitterly, dashing away tears with the back of her free hand. “It’s fine, I did not mean to get so... worked up,” she said. “I’ve had a year to come to terms with Luula’s death, and it wasn’t like we were even close-”

“That doesn’t matter, macan,” Corinne said firmly. “Such barbarism, such malice- it is never warranted. Luula’s death was a tragedy, and you do not have to apologise for being hurt by it.”

“There has been a growing unhappiness in the north about the influence of Val Royeaux,” Riana said after a moment’s hesitation. “They cut down as many of our templars and ilaalin as they did mages, in the end. The queen kept peace only by the barest margin, but when the southern rebellion began in truth...” She shrugged. “There are many who do not see why we need bow to the ways of the south any longer, especially when they see the need to hold a sword above our necks as we kneel. We have enough problems with the qunari without trying to placate the Chantry as well.”

They had stopped outside the darkened windows of a tailor’s shop, and Corinne let go of Riana’s hand to hug herself briefly in the growing chill of the evening. The sky was a bruised purple colour, the lights of the city reflecting against the clouds and drowning out any early stars attempting to peek through. “So this conclave is...?”

“Controversial, at best,” Riana said ruefully. “The Council could not come to any sort of agreement as to whether to participate in any official capacity, but it was at least accepted that each of the matriarchs could make the decision for her own house, so long as it was stressed that in no way did they speak for the Council as a whole.”

Corinne sighed, rubbing at her temple. “Spirits, I’m almost glad I didn’t come back- I don’t have a head for this sort of politics.”

“Believe me, I don’t either,” Riana grumbled. “But come on, that’s enough grousing from me- let’s get you somewhere warm and out of those wretched clothes.”

They were less than a block from their destination, a bustling tavern well lit and noisy from the outside, and the loud carousing only grew in volume once they crossed over the threshold. The inn was packed, labourers and merchants and sailors and farmers and everyone in between- she even thought she caught a glimpse of the fabled silver and blue of the Grey Wardens through the crowd, recalling a moment later that they were based somewhere to the south of the city. The press of the crowd made her a little breathlessly uncomfortable, and she was relieved beyond measure for Riana’s hand on her elbow, and the shout that came from the upper balcony when they were halfway across the room. 

She looked up to see yet another cousin, the very dear Vilas, hanging wildly over the balustrade and waving frantically in their direction. Unlike Riana, who looked as perfectly styled as if she were expecting an invitation to the royal court any moment now despite her casual clothing, Vilas looked like he’d only rolled out of bed five minutes ago and had looked for the nearest item of crumpled clothing that did not have stains on it. His locs were swinging loose around his head, and he’d added to his tattoos since the last time she’d seen him- there was a pale silver swirl that stood out starkly on his dark skin, curling over his left cheek and tracing down his neck to vanish beneath his unlaced shirt front like some open invitation to see how far down it went, and the numerous piercings in his ears had been changed from gold to silver to complement. 

Despite his dishevelled state, he was still remarkably beautiful, his lips full and his eyes dark and his smile almost vixenish as he wiggled his fingers in their direction. 

“What is this vision of beauty I see stumbling through the door?” he called, shouting to be heard over the din. Riana and Corinne both laughed as they pushed their way through towards the stairs, while Vilas clutched a hand to his heart in a faux swoon. “What beacon of loveliness do I spy, come for such a humble and handsome man-”

“If you see a humble and handsome man, point him in our direction, would you?” Riana called back.

He pretended to stagger against the balustrade. “Foul words, fair lady! You wound me with such cruelty-”

“No, but I’m about to!”

They managed to work their way to the upper floor of the tavern, and Corinne felt a rush of relief at leaving the worst of the crush behind them. She didn’t mind people, really, and she could tolerate cities to an extent, but having grown up in the freedom of the slopes of the southern Vinmarks, large gatherings happened to grate on her fairly quickly. It might have been a phobia, and it might have been just a natural aversion gained through years of living with her own company and not a lot more. 

On the upper floor, she saw a number of familiar faces seated around a wide table, all of whom warmed her heart- Vilas, of course, still carrying on his performance, and Riana’s mother Leylo, a seer in her own right if not a member of the Council. Seated beside her was her ilaalin and life-partner Riyo, their smile broad as they spotted her, and seated on the other side of them was yet another cousin, Asha. The party was rounded out with Galad, Luula’s youngest brother, and his wife Niino, who was bouncing their toddler Samira on her knee and offering her crumbled pieces of bread. 

Every one of Ishaaro’s four daughters was represented in the small gathering, and all walks of life between them- established seers and young mages both, guardians who had dedicated their lives to protecting their charge and those who were only setting out on the path now, and those who had grown up amongst the magic and myth but remained untouched by it. Ishaaro had picked well with such an envoy, and it was surprisingly more subtle than she’d expected. 

Assuming that little Samira was not destined to be a mage herself, then Corinne and Leylo were the only two mages in the party. 

Corinne tried not to feel smug on the little swell of pride that came from knowing that her grandmother had entrusted her with such an important task. 

Her aunt Leylo smiled warmly as they drew up to the table, rising gracefully to her feet and coming around to embrace her. “Corinne, macan,” she said softly, kissing her softly on the forehead. “It eases my heart to have you with us at last.”

Leylo was a striking woman, as tall as her daughter and regal in her bearings- unlike Riana and Vilas, she wore her hair naturally, a cloud of tight black spirals pushed back from her face by a turquoise silk headband, and the jewellery she wore was elaborate and thick, hefty gold pieces enhanced further by pieces of turquoise to match her hairpiece. There were lines around her eyes, and her mouth, and there was enough grey in her hair now that it wouldn’t be long before she was declared a matriarch. When she smiled, Corinne could see hints of Nadifa in her face, and her heart abruptly fluttered with panic at being so far from her mother. 

But her aunt was a perceptive woman, and she smiled, taking her face between her hands and smoothing back the loose strands of hair. “You have been missed, dear heart,” she said earnestly. “It is not just Riana who pined for your company this past year.”

“She was like a lovestruck teen mooning after her sweetheart,” Vilas said, plunking into a seat at the table and reaching for the bread. “Too much sighing and moping and-”

Riyo cuffed him over the back of the head. “Until you’ve taken up the burden of an ilaalin, you’ve no place to judge, boy,” they said, tone amused despite the censure in their voice. “Riana comported herself quite well, given the pain such a separation usually causes.”

Riana beamed at them. “Thank you, Riyo,” she said in a sing song voice, sliding in opposite Vilas and taking the piece of bread he’d been reaching for. 

Leylo rolled her eyes and smiled knowingly at Corinne, and Corinne felt the ache in her heart ease a little. If nothing else, it was good to be amongst family again. “Did you want to join us for supper, macan?” Leylo asked, still smoothing her thumbs over her cheeks as she cradled her face between her hands. “Or do you need space and time for yourself- I can have them send a bath up to our rooms if you desire.”

The allure of silence and solitude- especially after two days of cramped travelling conditions aboard the small runner- was strong, but so too was the temptation of food and family. “I think I can sit for awhile,” she said, touching her hand to Leylo’s fingers reassuringly. Her aunt smiled in response, and led her to the table, taking her seat back beside Riyo while Corinne dropped down beside Riana. 

Asha held her drink out towards her in a toasting gesture. “Well met, cousin,” she said. “It’s been too long.”

“You’re the third person to suggest as much,” Corinne said, taking the piece of bread that Riana offered her. 

“I can’t say I blame you for keeping to the woods,” Niino said, and Corinne noticed for the first time the lines of stress around her eyes, the weariness in her voice. She was still bouncing Samira absently on her knee, and the toddler seemed unaffected by her mother’s unease. “The roads are not safe for any of us these days.”

Galad sighed and ran a hand soothingly over her shoulder. “They are not so bad, macan,” he said, “and it is our duty to make them better for Samira, if we can.”

There was an awkward moment of silence, and Corinne could tell this was an old argument, rehashed a dozen times or more already, and she cleared her throat to ease the tension. “I apologize for making you all wait for me,” she said brightly, “I hope the wet dog smell hasn’t made it too unbearable for you all.”


	2. Chapter 2

With Corinne safely settled in the party, they left Amaranthine the next morning, heading south along the Pilgrim’s Path towards Denerim where they would be able to turn west along the Imperial Highway towards the mountains, and their eventual goal of Haven. 

Corinne had to admit that once one was out of the crowded cities, the countryside really didn’t smell that bad at all. In fact it was invigorating to be out in the wilds again, the trees soaring overhead and the fields lush and swaying in the wind, and the clouds heavy enough to warrant at least one shower a day. While the others grumbled and pulled their coats tighter when it rained, she turned her face up towards the sky, shivering in the cold with a beauteous smile on her face. 

The cold was new, of course- not to say that they didn’t have winters in Ostwick, that occasionally the storms didn’t roll in off the Waking Sea and crash against the coast with more power than she had ever believed possible, but it was deeper here. Sharper, perhaps, and it took longer in the mornings for her breath to stop frosting the air before her. She took advantage of it, playing with the cold while they made the arduous trek south- she perfected the art of breathing out the frost like a dragon, magically twisting the cold until she could stand before a wildflower and freeze it solid with her breath alone. She snapped the tiny icicles off the trees on the coldest mornings, spinning them between her hands and keeping them intact through fierce concentration, before hurling them through the air with immense precision like a knife. 

One morning when Vilas was being particularly irksome, she crept up behind him and blew frost into his hair- when he shrieked in alarm and rubbed his hands through his locs aggressively to shake free the ice, she laughed and snapped off a tiny frozen piece from the end, flicking it at him. 

Vilas sulked for a full day after that. 

They passed close to the famed Vigil’s Keep at one point, the roads well travelled and in good repair. There was even a moment when a rider in blue and silver went speeding past them, all of them crowding to one side of the road to let her pass; Corinne knew little of the wardens apart from the usual tales and legends, and it was almost surreal to see them so casually out in the world. 

After encountering the rider, the conversation of course turned towards the wardens, and all of the remarkably absurd stories they’d all heard about them. 

“The Wardens in general are welcoming towards mages, if not overtly friendly,” Leylo said, walking regally at the centre of their little procession. “Ishaaro had a cousin many years ago who sailed with the Armada, and who was taken by an Orlesian naval frigate- when he was taken back to port for trial for piracy, he claimed he was working secretly for the order out of Antiva, and insisted on being taken to their local chapter house. By the time anyone had had word from Antiva City, it was too late- he’d charmed his way into being offered the Joining, and had become a warden in truth, and the authorities could not touch him.”

Vilas barked out a laugh. “A smart man,” he said, “clearly I take after his side of the family.”

“What- a liar, a pirate and a cad?” Asha asked teasingly. “Mmm, that certainly sounds familiar, I will say.”

Corinne smiled absently at their bickering and quickened her step to draw even with Leylo. “I heard the Lady Cousland was far more understanding about such things,” she said. “After all, didn’t she face the Blight with two mages at her side? And one of them an apostate?”

“Ah, but the Lady Cousland is no longer in a position to influence the direction the wardens of Vigil’s Keep take, nor the way they comport themselves,” Leylo said. 

“You would’ve thought that some part of her, some kind of legacy, would have carried over through the years- it’s only been a decade, after all.” Corinne shrugged, aware she was talking in circles. “I just assumed they would have been a bit more open-minded.”

“What makes you say that” Niino asked curiously, absently patting Samira on the back where she grumbled and fussed in her arms.

“I met her, a few years ago- grandmother knows her, or knew her, somehow. She was rather, ah, _fond_ of a spirit, so she’s clearly not opposed to magic.”

Niino wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Do you mean _fond_ as in sex, because I have a feeling that’s what you mean.”

Corinne laughed. “It was hard to say, honestly? Grandmother knew more than me, but I was there when she performed the rite of bonding for them, to anchor the spirit to the physical world. They were definitely close, but I don’t think it was about sex. I think, anyway.”

“Everyone knows the stories about Lady Cousland’s appetites,” Vilas said knowledgeably, winking at Riana when she rolled her eyes. “It wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn her tastes had turned to spirits after growing bored with mortal men.”

Riana groaned. “Vilas, I swear...”

“Imagine being able to say you’d been taken to her bed- imagine the honour!”

“Ain’t nobody interested in your _honour_ , cousin,” Riana said pointedly.

Vilas ignored her, throwing his arms wide. “Hello ladies, it is I, Vilas of Dama, he whose loins were favoured by the Hero of the Fifth Blight herself! Look no further for the father of your children, strong and hale and-”

Riana nudged him very firmly in the back of the knee, sending him stumbling forward. “Your children will be remarkably pretty, but I pity the poor individual you trick into carrying them for you.”

Dusting himself off, Vilas drew himself up indignantly. “You are simply jealous that my future offspring will set gods to weeping with their beauty,” he said loftily.

“Given that I’m unlikely to ever have children, that’s no great loss.” 

The trek towards Denerim passed in good time, and Corinne found herself relaxing more with each passing day. She had truly forgotten how good it was to be amongst family- no insult to her parents, of course, but since the annulment of the Dairsmuid Circle they had been almost painfully fretful. And after the eye opening liberation that was her young adult years in Rivain, their attention had begun to feel cloying. 

Her thirtieth year was fast approaching, and while she felt no haste to commit herself to any particular path, spending time amongst the various members of her adoptive family always made her feel a little more focused, like she was working towards something and contributing to something greater than herself. Perhaps that was just the novelty of being part of a community, rather than indulging in her own company in the woodlands far from civilization.

But she found herself laughing with Riana and Vilas regularly, snickering as the two of them bickered like feuding siblings, and spending her evenings engrossed in conversation with Leylo, fascinated by her aunt’s complex grasp of the spiritual world in comparison to her own focus on the physical realm. She cooed over Samira and took her whenever Niino and Galad needed rest, breathing out frosted animals for the toddler to chase around the campsite. The sight of the little girl shrieking with laughter as she stumbled after shadowy ice rabbits had them all laughing along, even more so when Samira uncovered the trick and ran up to press her finger clumsily to Corinne’s lips, squealing in excitement when Corinne pulled a face behind her hand and breathed out through her nose, sending tiny frost kittens scampering down her chubby toddler arm. 

It only took them a few days before they crested a hill and saw Denerim laid out before them, nestled between the river mouth and the mountain atop which sat an oddly structured fort. The colour of the stone was badly mismatched, evident even from this distance, and Asha was the first to point out it was most likely the famed Fort Drakon, site of the final battle with the Archdemon and largely destroyed in the cataclysmic explosion that had finally slain the dragon- and ended the Fifth Blight.

“If it even _was_ a Blight,” Riana groused, keeping her voice low given the increased traffic on the road this close to the city. “No outside help and only three grey wardens, and what, over in less than a year? 

“It was a Blight,” Corinne said, her eyes unfocused and her head cocked to the side as if she was listening to something in the distance. She pointed to the south, her aim unwavering. “It’s all around us, but it gets worse the further you go in that direction. I can feel it in the earth- the decay and the death. It’s healing, but it’s like...” She shivered. “It’s like tar and ash and pus and rot, in the very ground itself.”

“How pleasant,” Galad said in a pained voice, Samira dozing against his shoulder. “Maybe that accounts for the delightful taste of the local cuisine.”

“ _Galad!_ ” Niino said, slapping him on the arm.

“The food tastes like shit and glue, macan,” he said, pouting outrageously and letting his lip tremble. 

“Do you make a habit of eating shit and glue to know the taste, cousin?” Riana said dryly.

“I’ve eaten in enough bad taverns in Rivain, yes- but at least they have the courtesy to hide the fact with spices.”

The conversation drifted away from the Blight, and as the sun sank behind them they made their way towards the city gates; Riana came up beside Corinne, a concerned look on her face when she glanced at her. “You didn’t say anything about being able to feel the corruption,” she said, a faint hint of chastisement in her tone. 

Corinne shrugged. “I didn’t feel it was relevant,” she said.

“But you can feel it,” Riana said persistently. “It’s clearly causing you discomfort.”

“It’s more just...” She trailed off when she saw Riana’s face, and sighed. “Okay yes, it’s unpleasant, but no more so than an old bruise when you move too sharply. It’s fine, Ria.”

Riana looked at her dubiously. “You should have said something.”

“To what end? I can’t stop feeling it, and you can’t fix it.” She hefted her satchel back up onto her shoulder, her arm aching after a long day of carrying it. “It’s bearable.”

“I can fix you a tonic when we stop-”

“ _Ria_ ,” Corinne said sharply, lowering her voice so the others wouldn’t hear. Before them, the city walls loomed large, just as mismatched in places as the fort on the hill above them, the newer stones much darker and still bearing chisel marks compared to the older, smoother stones. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not going to dull my senses for something as mundane as this.”

“As your ilaalin, it is my duty-”

“To guard me, but mostly to respect my wishes in regards to my spiritual and magical health at all times unless I have been compromised,” she finished for her. “Does it look to you like I’ve been compromised? At worst, it’s like a nagging headache, nothing more. I can ignore it, and I want to.” 

Riana sighed, reaching out to push a loose strand of hair out of Corinne’s face. “I just want to look after you, macan,” she said, and Corinne’s temper eased at the longing and grief in her voice. 

“I know, Ria,” she said softly, taking her hand in hers and squeezing. “You’ve never given anything but your heart and soul to protect me, and I am grateful for it every single day.”

“I have an entire lost year to make up for,” Riana said warningly. “And at least in Rivain there wasn’t much chance of anyone threatening you.”

Corinne raised an eyebrow. “Your expectations for the good people of Ferelden are so low already?” she asked, gesturing for them to start walking again so that they could catch up to the rest of the family. 

Riana snorted and fell into step beside her. “It’s open war, Rin,” she said. “The Arlessa of Redcliffe has been pushing for greater freedoms ever since the Circles rebelled- it’s because of her that the Fereldans even reached out to mages and offered them sanctuary in the first place, and we have to pass right through Redcliffe. If you think we aren’t going to see trouble on the roads, well...”

“Are you calling me stupid, cousin?”

They passed under the vast arch of the city gates with a small crowd, the watchmen going along the wall and lighting the torches as the evening crept closer. “I would never dream of calling you stupid,” Riana said cheerfully. “Sometimes I think it very loudly, though.”

“Wretch.”

“Rin, you are ridiculously sheltered sometimes,” Riana said, spotting the family waiting further down the block and waving to gain their attention. “You think the world to be far more charming than it really is.”

“I’m sorry, but which one of us was disowned by their birth family and threatened with drowning, death and imprisonment?” Corinne asked, unable to keep the sharp edge out of her voice. A woman in soldier’s mail with livery she did not recognise looked their way at her words, a slight sneer of distaste on her face. “I’m fairly certain I know how unfriendly the world can be.”

Riana sighed again as they reached the rest of the family, the crowds flowing either side of the group like a river parting around a stone. “I’m not going to argue with you about this, macan,” she said seriously. “I’m just warning you that you aren’t really up to date on current affairs compared to the rest of us.” 

“She’s right, dear heart,” Leylo said just as solemnly as they came to a stop before her. 

Corinne threw her arms in the air in frustration. “You didn’t even hear our conversation!” she said irritably. 

Leylo folded her hands patiently before her. “An ilaalin is tasked at all times with keeping their charge safe, and Riana is far better positioned to assess dangers to you in this country than you are,” she said. “And she is right- you can not have a full grasp of the complexities of the rebellion as it stands. Not after having retreated into your sanctuary for the last year.”

Folding her arms in frustration, Corinne said “So I’m just supposed to follow along meekly and accept that I’m not as intelligent as the rest of you?”

Her aunt didn’t even sigh. “We can speak tonight, macan,” she said gently, putting her hand over Corinne’s. Corinne tensed her jaw and looked away. “There is much we need to discuss if you are at all to speak on Ishaaro’s behalf in the coming weeks.”

Riyo hooked their arm through Riana’s and pulled her close against their side. “And you and I are going to have an important discussion about respecting boundaries and not mothering your charge until they want to wring your neck,” they said pointedly. 

At Riana’s scowl, Corinne fought back a smile; at the look on Leylo’s face, she gave up and started laughing. “We’re just as bad as each other,” she said by way of explanation when Riana’s filthy look turned in her direction. Her scowl held for a moment longer, and then Riana grinned ruefully, glancing away and grumbling under her breath. 

Galad came out of a nearby shop, and looked between them all before shaking his head. “There are a few taverns off the market square that should have vacancies,” he said, taking Samira out of Niino’s arms and settling her on his hip. “If we hurry, we should be able to find a good one before the evening crowd takes up all the tables.”

He gestured for them to follow and they headed deeper into the city; all around them was evidence of the recent war, with more recent architecture settled uncomfortably beside more ancient structures. The rebuilding efforts had clearer attempted to match the styles, but for a city as old as Denerim, it was almost impossible. There were still abandoned buildings down side streets, the stone still streaked with soot and the cobblestones still rippled and uneven. Despite the lingering remnants of a cataclysmic event, the city was doing quite well- coloured bunting hung across the streets along with the occasional line of laundry, and most of the businesses facing the main boulevarde had panes of cloudy glass in the window frames. 

Interestingly, now that she was paying attention, there were a significant number of people in the passing throngs who made no secret of the staffs they were carrying. In Rivain, such a sight would not have warranted a mention at all, but here in the south...

Corinne couldn’t say whether she admired them for their bravery in so openly flaunting their identities, or whether she found their blatant disregard for their own safety foolish. 

In the market square stood a grand statue on a marble pedestal, towering over the heads of everyone in the area; it depicted a woman in mid leap, her hair flying dramatically as she plunged her knives into the chest of a grotesque beast that Corinne assumed was a darkspawn. It had been cast in copper, and must have been glorious once upon a time, but age and neglect had taken its toll- the sheen had gone from the metal, no longer burnished and gleaming, and in places the green of corrosion had crept across the face of the statue. 

The woman’s features were familiar enough, however, that Corinne didn’t even need to check the tarnished memorial plaque to know who it was. 

“I always figured she’d be taller,” Asha said, coming to stand beside her. “Or, you know, bigger? More muscular or something.”

“Why’s that?” Corinne asked, not taking her eyes off the statue.

“I don’t know, you think of someone killing an archdemon and surviving, you think they have to be part immortal themselves, you know? Not some waifish skinny white girl.” 

Corinne shrugged. “She wasn’t like that when I met her,” she said, turning her back to it. “She was... sharper. More angular- the statue makes her look a lot smaller and prettier than she is.”

“Ey, don’t let the dog-lords hear you calling their hero ugly.”

“I didn’t say she was ugly, she just doesn’t look like _that_ ,” she said, jerking her thumb towards the statue. 

There was a clean looking tavern just off the market square that seemed to cater to high end clientele, and Galad steered them in that direction. At the very least it was clean, and there was no sign of a dinner rush as of yet, and the proprietor promised them all hot baths and satisfying meals. Everybody cast amused glances in Galad’s direction at the mention of the food, with Vilas snickering behind his hand to the bemusement of the innkeeper. 

Once they were all shown to their rooms and beginning to settle in, a knock at the door interrupted Corinne as she unpacked her bag; she looked up to see Riyo standing inside the doorway, leaning against the frame. 

“Leylo would like to speak to you, if you have a few moments,” they said, smiling kindly. At Riana’s foreboding _ooooooh_ from the back of the room, their smile broadened. “And you and I will be having our chat now, child.”

Riana’s impatient groan made Corinne laugh, and Riyo brushed their fingers affectionately against her cheek as she passed them. Leylo and Riyo had been given the larger room at the end of the hall, and the door was still open as she approached. Barging in seemed rude, given the circumstances, even if she had been asked to attend to her; instead she paused in the doorway and knocked, politely waiting for her aunt to acknowledge her.

When Leylo came out from the bedroom, she was holding a pair of pale red candles, and she smiled in welcome. “Have a seat, macan,” she said, gesturing towards the pair of couches. As Corinne found a comfortable spot, Leylo set down the candles in the silver dishes on the low table between them, lighting the wick on the first with a touch of her fingers. 

“I’m guessing you were one of the people Nadifa was writing furiously to over the past few months,” Corinne said, getting right down to business. 

“I was in correspondence with your mother, yes,” she said, cupping her hand to the second candle to shelter the tiny flame until it grew steady. “We both had a number of concerns about how this conclave would affect your future.”

Corinne sighed and rubbed wearily at her temple. “Just say that you were both worried about me being a recluse in the woods and have it done,” she said. 

Leylo smiled wryly as she settled back into the seat opposite her. “You’re remarkably suspicious this evening, macan,” she said, smoothing her skirts back into place. “Is there something on your mind?”

“Frustration and confusion,” Corinne said, waving her hand absently. “Irritation.”

“And what is frustrating, confusing and irritating you, my dear?”

“I just...” Corinne sighed again, sinking deeper into the couch. “I was only barely convinced about the necessity for me to be here when Nadifa talked to me, and I swing backwards and forwards a hundred times each day.”

Leylo nodded solemnly. “Is there a particular reason why you feel your presence is not necessary?”

“I’m not political, or influential- the extent of my impact barely reaches the entirety of the family. I’m nobody, in the grand scheme of things.”

“That’s not true, Corinne,” Leylo said. “When I was a girl, I was determined that I would not be forced into the path of my mother- I saw her power and her influence, the serene way in which she conducted herself, and I resented her for it. Her powers seemed to come to her so naturally, and she spoke with queens and seers as if they were her sisters, not women who could change the course of the world. It frightened me, and I hated it.”

Corinne tucked her feet up under her, listening intently. 

“I did not want the life of a seer,” her aunt continued, “and I certainly did not want to be a role model for anyone. I was young, angry and impulsive, and convinced of my own immortality.”

“What did you do?”

“What any angry and foolish young woman would do- I ran away.” She smiled, shaking her head. “I had grand plans to join the Armada, to sail wild and free across the world, unbound by the expectations of others. Thankfully, I did not make it far.”

“What happened?”

“My ilaalin at the time was your grandfather, and he was... not well, by that point. He had no hope of keeping up with a spirited young woman at the best of times- as such, my concept of guardianship was somewhat skewed. On my way to the docks, however, I ran into some trouble with some _actual_ members of the Armada, who took an interest in what an unbound mage could mean for their crew.”

Corinne’s eyebrows went up. “You were caught by a press gang?” It seemed almost impossible to imagine, a woman as placid and composed as Aunt Leylo defying her parents and running off to be a pirate, only to be cornered by thugs.

“If we’re being polite, then yes.” Leylo’s mouth twitched in amusement. “There was a scuffle, and I managed to hold my ground for a few moments, but I was in no way able to defend myself.”

“And yet here you are, with no history with the Armada,” Corinne said pointedly.

“Indeed,” she said. “As it was, there was another individual in the area who took exception to the actions of the raiders- I was later to learn that they were first mate on a rival ship, but their story at the time and ever since was that they were drawn to defend me like their own life depended on it.”

Realisation clicked a moment later. “It was Riyo,” she said. “Riyo rescued you from the press gang.”

“They did,” Leylo said, a dreamy sort of amusement in her voice. “And for the first time ever, I understand the strength one could draw from the connection with a guardian. Riyo and I fought as one, and we were inseparable from that moment on.”

Corinne smiled. “Just like that? No more running off on wild adventures, you fell in love and suddenly you were settled and content?”

“What Riyo and I built between us was not love to begin with- not initially. Love came later, after many years of friendship and companionship and support- they were reluctant to leave their position, hard fought after many years of service, especially to take up a mantle as demanding as that of an ilaalin.” Leylo sighed. “And no, I was not settled and content immediately. I fought and hissed and quarrelled with Ishaaro and my sisters, and generally made life unpleasant for everyone for quite some time.”

“I can’t say I grasp what point you’re trying to make, Leylo. Can I ask you to indulge me my idiocy?”

Leylo smiled. “You are far from an idiot, macan,” she said, “but very well. My point is that, had I run off like the foolish girl that I was, I would not have met my darling Riyo. I would very likely never have understand the power and the strength one can draw from an ilaalin, nor from the deep strength and friendship I find with my sisters and fellow seeresses. I would never have been blessed with the beautiful children and grandchildren I have today- and I would not be on my way to the greatest conclave of peace and opportunity for change that Thedas has ever seen.”

Corinne shifted uncomfortably, coming slowly around to her meaning. “But that’s not to say that your life would have been one lacking substance,” she countered. “You could have had freedom, and you may very well have found love, and companionship, and children.”

“I may have, at that,” Leylo conceded. “But had I run, had I hidden myself away, I would not be here today, with you.”

“I’m not _running_ anywhere, Leylo,” Corinne said, intensely self conscious now that her aunt had laid it out before her. 

“But you are convinced that you are of no use to such proceedings, and that your presence is pointless.” Leylo smoothed down her lavender skirts, the purple soft and gentle against her dark skin. “You have a unique perspective, macan, and you cannot run forever. The older you get, the smaller the woods will seem, and you will forever regret the possibilities that could have arisen from such a great meeting of minds and hearts.”

“The only thing I regret right now is the dressing down I’m getting,” she grumbled.

Leylo smiled warmly. “Pride heals, macan, and sometimes it does us good to lance our egos and let them drain for a time.”

Corinne sighed, picking at a loose thread on the hem of her shirt. “And you truly think that I will have an impact on this conclave?”

“Corinne, macan, I am certain that it will only do you a world of good.”


	3. Chapter 3

They did not tarry in Denerim for any longer than necessary; the capital was a busy place, and it seethed with an uneasy energy. The events taking place in the west seemed to be the only topic of conversation- be it the civil war consuming Orlais, the increasingly growing settlement of mages claiming the protection of the Arlessa of Redcliffe, or the forthcoming conclave in the mountains, all eyes in Denerim seemed to be turned towards the horizon. The whispers in the streets were suspicious, afraid; for a country so recently beset by tragedy, the storm clouds brewing in the distance were an ominous reminder indeed. 

Corinne couldn’t say she was sad to leave the city behind; like Amaranthine, the press of people and the unending cluster of wood and stone and glass and metal made her anxious, disconnected from the world and the serenity of her gift in a way that had everyone in the family commenting at least once on her short temper and fragile mood. To be out on the open roads again was a huge relief to her, and after a day or two when her nerves had had time to settle, she found the humility to offer apologies to everyone for her snappishness. 

The days marched onwards as they made their way slowly towards the west, meandering along the Imperial Highway at a leisurely pace so as not to overburden anyone. They still had weeks until the conclave was due to start, so they were in no great hurry. Corinne was appreciative of the slow pace, because it gave her plenty of opportunities to shed her clothes and take to the skies on borrowed wings, or dash into the fields and woodlands on padded feet. Riana would laugh and take hold of her satchel for her, rolling her eyes in amusement while she stripped down to nothing and shifted her shape, offering her the same stern warnings each time while her eyes glowed with merriment. 

They called this place the Bannorn, and she soared above it on warm columns of air, watching the land fall away below her in a beautiful rolling carpet. It was rich farmland, with the occasional pockets of woodland hidden in the gullies, and every now and then a small town or village gathered around the outside of a fort like crumpled skirts around an old crone. Even more infrequently, she found further reminders of the Blight, little scars against the landscape that had only slowly begun to heal, like a cut made by a poisoned dagger. 

Sometimes it was faint, like catching a hint of an unpleasant odour wafting past, and sometimes it was so violently painful that it all but knocked her from the sky, her senses reeling from the onslaught. Riana could always tell, too- when she flew back to the group and shifted back, she never had to tell her of the horrors she’d endured. She would hand her her clothes and wait patiently for her to clothe herself, and then she would hug her tightly, her arms tight around her and her mouth set in a grim line. 

She never asked her to describe what it was she felt, and she was grateful to her for that. She wasn’t entirely sure that she had words for it, most days. 

The roads were not empty, of course; there were a great many people heading towards the promised sanctuary of Redcliffe, or fleeing from the violence simmering on the outskirts of said sanctuary. A few seemed to be intended for Haven, just as they were, but Leylo was very polite but firm when it came to discouraging the idea of them travelling together. Some of them had the air of scavengers, opportunistic and hungry, and others bore the shell shocked look of those who had walked free of great tragedy. In their time on the road, Riana told her quietly of the uprisings, of the extent of the rebellion; Dairsmuid was not the only Circle to have been cut down, of course, and the brutality of the system meant that there were a great many mages wandering free with no means to support or defend themselves. 

As Leylo said, it was like dropping them into a foreign land with no explanation, no survival guide, and expecting them to flourish. The dissolution of the Circles might have been well overdue, but nothing about it had been handled well. 

When they were not holding their tongues in the presence of refugees and rebels, they all bickered and jested as normal, singing along to dirty songs around the fire at night and indulging in amusing games and jokes to pass the time. Vilas, irrepressible prankster that he was, could get under Riana’s skin in an instant, only to smile charmingly and wriggle out of reach, dancing off down the road on feet so light he barely seemed to touch the ground. 

There were moments of tension, of course, as there were bound to be when fatigue and weariness set in, but they had plenty of time to laugh as well. The greatest amusement in days came when Asha made an offhand comment about Fereldans showing more affection to their dogs than they did to their spouses. 

Corinne blinked once as the image settled in her head, slowing to a halt. “Wait...”

Asha smiled charmingly over her shoulder at her. “Problem, cousin?”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust as they passed by an empty meadow where labourers were turning the soil. “They kiss their dogs on the _mouth?_ ”

“You turn into at least _half_ the slobbering creatures in the woods,” Vilas called with a laugh. “How can _you_ of all people be squeamish about _that_.”

“Yeah, but I don’t _kiss_ them, spirits!”

Vilas came up behind her and slung his arm around her shoulder, shorter than her by a good few inches and practically hanging off of her. “Do we need to find you a cuddly Fereldan boy to smooch with, macan?” he said in a sing song voice, making kissing noises next to her ear. “Do you need slobbering kisses all of your own.”

“I am going to test the limits of my magical abilities and try to turn you into a snail, since you’re so interested in the idea of sharing mucus.”

At the front of their little procession where they walked beside Leylo, Riyo stiffened suddenly and held up their hand as a warning. Everyone drew to an immediate halt, a ripple of unease running through them as they all sought to work out what had caught Riyo’s eye. 

It did not take long for it to become apparent.

A group of men in full armour came trudging over the hill from the north, very obviously not coming from any established roads, and Corinne felt her skin crawling as she watched them draw closer. Their armour was worn and dented, clearly used for more than decoration, and the colours they wore...

She had only ever seen templars at a distance, on those few occasions when she had passed through Antiva City, and never this close before. The burning sword was unmistakable, etched into the chest plates, but they did not look like the orderly men and women she had avoided in the crowded streets of the port city. They looked haggard and tired, filthy and battered, and there was a ruthlessness to them that slammed into her like a wall, the ugly sensations emanating from them making her grunt in discomfort. 

Riana looked in her direction briefly, and stepped closer. 

“Ho there!” They approached them quickly, too quickly, almost as if they had been lying in wait for passersby; the group fanned out along the edge of the road, not quite outnumbering them, but they had the advantage of being well armed and armoured, and unhindered by civilians and children. 

Their leader- or at least, the one she assumed to be their leader- was a large and brutish looking man with an unpleasant face. Maybe it was the way he held himself, maybe it was the look in his eyes as he assessed their numbers, but she felt the hair on the back of her neck rise just from looking at him. 

“Well met, messere,” Riyo said pleasantly, standing very pointedly at the head of the group with their hand resting of the pommel of their blade. “Is there trouble ahead?”

A nasty snicker ran through their group, and the leader’s smile broadened. “There could be, at that,” he said, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin. “You’re heading into maleficarum territory after all. Those abominations have overrun Redcliffe, you know.”

At her side, Riana bristled, and at the edge of her vision she could see Vilas slowly straightening, the threat of violence simmering under his skin. 

“We appreciate the warning friend, but we’re only passing through,” Riyo said firmly, not a hint of anger or frustration in their voice. “We’ll be sure to be careful when we get closer to the castle.”

The man made a grand show of shrugging his shoulders and looking to his fellows, as if confused and seeking answers from them. “They’ll be careful near the castle,” he said, his voice vaguely mocking. “It’s good to see them promising to take such care, isn’t it boys?”

“That it is, knight-captain, ser,” the one to his right said, running his thumb suggestively over the pommel of his own sword. “It’d be a shame if something happened to them, despite all the care they took otherwise.”

Riyo’s face was still pleasantly calm. “We don’t want any trouble,” they said patiently. 

“Well, in that case, we’ll make this quick for you- you say you’re headed past Redcliffe, but there ain’t much past Redcliffe these days.” He spat on the ground between them. “Except of course, them that are making their way to that there conclave in the hills.”

Riyo didn’t say anything, simply drew their sword.

“Are you dirty fuckers mages?”

“We have no quarrel with you, southerner,” Leylo said calmly, from where she stood behind Riyo.

The group drew their weapons almost as one, and began to advance forward. “Is that so?” the knight-captain said gleefully. “Because you’re about to.”

Riyo barked out Riana’s name, adopting a defensive stance as she came to stand beside them with her own weapon drawn. “We are templars of the order of Rivain, and we are-”

“Oh, Rivaini templars are you? I heard you couldn’t control your mages, and they had to be put down like the dogs that they were-”

A knife went hurtling through the air, whistling faintly as it spun end over end, before embedding itself in the man’s eye with a wet sounding thunk. There was a spray of blood and he screamed, dropping his own weapon as he reached for it; Corinne had a brief glimpse of the carved bone handle, enough to recognise it as one of Vilas’ knives, before the impasse broke violently. 

The only other one that had spoken let out a shout, hefting his sword skyward as if to rally them, and then charged forward. Vilas pushed past Corinne instantly, almost a blur as he ducked towards the front, while towards the back Galad was fumbling to draw his bow. None of them were well armoured like their opponents, wearing only light leathers and mail for ease of travelling, and Corinne felt panic surge in her veins as the templars ran towards them. 

She widened her stance and spread her arms, gesturing to the stones, calling to them to rise up and-

A surge of _something_ slammed into her- energy, perhaps, but it was like being trapped within a vacuum. She felt the magic that had crackled so easily at her fingertips moments before sizzle and die, winking out of existence as if she simply _had_ no magic. She tried to suck in a breath, but it was like being winded, and her lungs simply would not function; she fell to one knee, eyes wide and panicked, as it slowly came to her that _the templars had suppressed her magic_.

They did this to their own mages?

“Get back!” Riyo roared, before lifting their sword and sprinting forward to meet their attackers; Riana was only a half step behind them, and Vilas ducked and darted in their wake, knives flashing in the sunlight while Riana and Riyo fought back to back. 

Corinne felt someone tugging on her arm and looked up to see Leylo standing over her, her mouth set in a grim line as she pulled her to her feet and dragged her back towards Asha and Niino and Samira. The poor toddler was screaming at the top of her lungs, tears streaming down her cheeks, while Niino did not look that far behind her. Galad had planted himself between them and the fracas, hands shaking as he kept his bow aimed towards the fight. Every so often he risked loosing an arrow into the fray, but Corinne could not say for certain that he struck anything.

And oh _spirits_ , but she _ached_. Whatever damnable thing those templars had done to her had disrupted something so fundamental to her that she felt numb, the sensation waning only very slowly. She wanted to be angry, she wanted to be furious, but she was _frightened_ \- she had not realised how easily the templars could counter her powers, even with all the warnings her family had given her, even with all the training she had gone through beside Riana. She had not realised just how weak and powerless they could truly make her feel, and that terrified her.

There had been six templars to begin with, and their leader was bent double on his knees, still clutching at his ruined face where Vilas had stabbed him. Of the five who had launched themselves forward, three still remained on their feet, while two lay still and bloody on the ground. Riana was fiercely engaged with one, slowly being harried backwards by his sword and shield tactics while she tried to cleave at him with her greatsword. Riyo was holding their ground against the other two, their face a fierce mask of concentration as they tried to keep track of both opponents, sliding out of reach whenever one of them edged in to try and flank them. 

Vilas was dancing between both conflicts, keeping well out of reach of the swords while darting forward whenever an opening presented itself to harry at the weaker points of the templars’ defense. 

With a shriek, Riana appeared to stumble, and her opponent pressed forward to take advantage of her lapse- only for her to surge back upwards, swinging her massive sword in an arc that took his head clean off his shoulders. A spray of hot blood splattered over her face, and Corinne could only stare in fascination and horror as the head rolled slowly away from the road while the body slumped to the ground. 

The last two men seemed to realise the danger they were in, and tried to disengage, but to no avail. As one turned to flee, Vilas leapt like a demon, daggers in both hands as he came crashing down on the man’s back and drove the blades into his spine, sending them both crashing to the earth. The last man dropped his sword and began to beg for mercy, but Riyo cut him down, their sword going deeply into his chest. 

That left the knight-captain, whimpering and wounded and bleeding, clutching at his face and whispering garbled promises that Corinne could not make out from this distance. Riyo clearly had no interest in what the man had to say, pulling a knife from their belt as they approached him before stooping to cut his throat. 

For several long, incredulous moments, there was no sound but for Samira’s frantic wails and Niino’s desperate attempts to calm her. Riana and Vilas were frozen, their weapons still bloodied as they stared at the dead templars, and Galad didn’t even stop to hook his bow over his shoulder, simply throwing it on the ground and stalking over to his wife and child, enveloping them both in a hug. Riyo was the only one who seemed to be in control of their senses, kneeling beside one of the dead to wipe their sword on the dead man’s tunic. “We need to burn the bodies,” they said.

From the back of the group, Niino let out a somewhat hysterical moan. “You can’t be serious,” she said, her voice shaking violently. 

“I am completely serious,” Riyo said, standing calmly and sheathing their sword at their waist. “If we leave them, they will only attract carrion to the area, putting the locals in danger. Additionally, if anyone-”

“Do you think they would have given us the same courtesy?” Niino said shrilly, tears on her face. Galad hushed her, tucking her face against his shoulder.

“Regardless of whether they would have treated our bodies with respect, we are not them,” Riyo said patiently. “We will not stoop to their level of savagery, nor will we inflict pain upon the people of this land by being inconsiderate.”

Riana was still staring down at the man she had cut down, and Corinne picked her way through the dead to put a hand on her shoulder. “Ria?”

She started violently, breathing heavily until she noticed Corinne, and then swallowing down a wave of emotions so turbulent that Corinne felt them echoing through _her_. When Ria reached up to cover her hand with hers, Corrine’s heart nearly broke. 

“Vilas, Asha, Riana- start going through their bags for anything useful. Leylo, Corinne-”

“It’s alright, macan,” Leylo said, just as calm and composed as her ilaalin. “We will deal with it.”

Riyo nodded at her. “Is anyone hurt?” They waited a few beats for any kind of confirmation, and then clapped their hands together once. “Alright then, everyone to work.”

Riana didn’t move initially, and Corinne drifted over to her aunt’s side reluctantly, looking back at her cousin. “Ria’s not-”

“She’ll be fine,” Leylo said quietly, guiding Corinne a little further away from the roadside. “She is ilaalin, and she needs to accept what that means. Are you alright?”

“It aches, but it’s getting better.”

“Good- Ria can make you a tonic when we stop for the night. It’s always a shock, the first time, but it will never hurt that badly ever again. A small mercy, I know, but we must be thankful for what we have.”

She let Leylo direct her, finding a place not too far from the bodies where the earth was willing when they reached for it; Leylo murmured instructions to her, and Corinne parted the earth with barely a flick of her wrist. Elemental magic always would be her shining strength, and her aunt knew not to waste her own reserves while Corinne could do the same work in but a fraction of the energy. They carved out a pit in the earth, knee deep, shoring up the edges until it was roughly the length of a tall man laid to rest, and wide enough to accommodate several bodies. 

Corinne stood by the edge of the pit, staring down into the freshly turned earth as the horrifying realisation that she had just dug a mass grave sank into her. “They were templars, weren’t they?” she whispered.

Beside her, Leylo nodded. “In a sense, yes. The order does not bow to the rule of the Chantry any more than the mages do, but their purpose remains... if somewhat distorted, perhaps.” When Corinne continued to stare into the pit, she took her by the hand. “Come, macan, let us gather kindling. It will be easier if we do not have to do all of the burning ourselves.”

The way she said it so calmly, as if she weren’t talking about burning the corpses of men they had just killed, shook her to the core. Death she could cope with, death she understood- death was a natural progression in life, the old making way for the new, the leaves of the canopy falling to the forest floor to become mulch to feed the next generation of trees and shelter the animals that lived and died beneath their branches. Death came for them all, in time, and there was nothing she feared in that.

But this... this was ugly, abhorrent. The violence in their hearts and the hatred in their eyes had shaken her more than she had believed possible, even after the scant few encounters she’d had with the Trevelyans over the years. They, at least, believed they had good reason to despise her, and she them.

But these men were strangers. They had seen her and judged her and hated her just from sight alone, and now they were dead for it.

Where was the balance in that? 

Corinne looked over her shoulder occasionally as she worked, her stomach roiling as if she were about to be ill. “Mother told me not to trust the Chantry,” she said quietly, tossing the newest armful of kindling into the pit. “Never a Sister, never a Seeker, never a Templar, those were her words.”

Leylo sighed, something akin to grief in her face as she too placed her kindling into the fire pit. “I wish I could say that Nadifa’s flare for the dramatic has gotten away from her again, but your mother is right, macan,” she said sorrowfully. “I know that my Ria has told you of the rumblings in the north, and the growing push for us to break ties formally with the Chantry once and for all.”

“She did,” Corinne said, gesturing towards the edges of the pit and pushing the crumbling earth up into a firmer embankment. “I assumed it was mostly youthful exuberance.”

“She is only a year younger than you, Corinne,” Leylo said in chastisement. “Do not be so quick to pass off her anger as simply the fires of youth, rather than the frustration of one who has long suffered under the heel of another. The Exalted March against our people was only a few generations ago, and some scars do not heal over so quickly.”

Corinne ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “What are you trying to say, exactly?”

“I am saying that the dissatisfaction with an oppressive system does not come from nowhere,” Leylo said. “And that there is a reason that Ishaaro was so determined to have her family stand for her at the conclave.”

The ground seemed to slip out from under her feet, and Corinne suddenly felt the most lightheaded she had ever felt. “Ishaaro is one of the dissenters,” she whispered. “Grandmother is one of the seers pushing for ties to be broken.”

There was a hardness in Leylo’s eyes as she turned back to her. “It is one thing to grit our teeth and accept the rule of another, but they have taken so much from us,” she said, her voice cold. “I have watched my sister grieve for a daughter cut down in cold blood, a woman murdered by foreigners as she stood and defended _children_ , all because a southern god demands their blood as proof of obeisance.”

“And so you’ve come to, what? Rebel on her behalf?”

“I have come to see what peace offerings their Divine extends, given that she and her people extol this as the greatest peaceful gathering in at least an age. And I have come to take that news back to the north for the Council of Seers to discuss it as they see fit.”

“But Ishaaro wants to cut ties?”

Leylo’s face was set like stone. “We all do,” she said, lifting her chin proudly. 

Corinne groaned and buried her face in her hands. “It would have been really polite of someone to inform me of this before I was halfway across a foreign country,” she said in frustration, her stomach roiling unhappily. 

“I apologise for the omission, macan,” she said gently. “But you see now why your voice was so necessary for this gathering- you, whose voice will be seen as far more reasonable than the rest of us, who did not witness the burning of Dairsmuid at the hands of foreign powers, who has the ability to walk into that conclave with a name that these southerners will respect-”

“I am _not_ a Trevelyan,” Corinne snarled, tears pricking sharply at her eyes as the weight of their expectations began to crash down on her.

“You are not their daughter, true,” Leylo conceded, “but you are their blood. And if you take nothing else from them, take their name. Use it, and make the world better because doors opened to you that otherwise would not.”

“You sound as if you expect me to change the world, Leylo,” Corinne said, dashing away the tears angrily with the back of her hand. 

“I expect you not to sit in complacency when you have an opportunity to help others,” Leylo said, brushing her hands off on her skirts and drawing herself up. “You have been given a great gift, and you have been protected and encouraged by some of the greatest seers in Rivain- for you to turn around and hoard your talents, to sequester yourself away when you can do so much-”

“Enough,” Corinne said shakily, turning her back. “You’ve made your point.

They all worked together to pile the bodies into the pit, and then Leylo and Corinne lit a fire within the kindling that burned brighter and stronger than any natural flame would; it caught on the clothing, and then the flesh of the dead. Corinne refused to turn away, and refused to acknowledge the tears on her cheeks.

Or if she did, she told herself it was only the smoke from the fire.


End file.
